


pancakes and memes 2: electric boogaloo

by lovelylogans



Series: meme boys [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Low Self-Esteem, Memes, Pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2020-12-17 18:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21058979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylogans/pseuds/lovelylogans
Summary: local man makes pancakes in the middle of the night; fellow figment of imagination comes downstairs to bug him. more at seven.(logan is so tired.)





	pancakes and memes 2: electric boogaloo

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: I honestly love your story where Roman and Virgil make pancakes at 3 am and sing along to meme music together. It's such a feel-good story and its also really funny. (also i love the mental image of Roman wearing more casual clothes when he thinks he's alone) idk, the entire story thing is great and i still go back and read it randomly to spike my mood up. :D Idk if you do prompts, but if you do, could i maybe request a follow up scene of them maybe hanging out again? its fine, if not. its still an amazing story on its own either way  
lovelylogans said: thank you so much! and yes, i do, but i do take quite a while on them (everyone is in the drafts, i swear!) as probably evidenced by how late i’m gonna answer this ask, rip. the opening of this fic came from [phanalogical_falsehoods’ comment on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/160941984), which was really helpful with giving me direction on this one!

Virgil had been getting slowly better and better at cooking pancakes.

He still burned a few, and some looked a bit too pale for comfort; he wasn’t Patton, but most of his pancakes were edible, so Virgil figured that was good enough.

The fact that it was nearing four am hadn’t escaped his attention, which was probably another way he wasn’t like Patton. Actually, it was _definitely_ a way he wasn’t like Patton; Patton and Logan were the most inclined to being early birds; Virgil was much more inclined towards being a night owl, or just generally an insomniac disaster, regardless of Logan’s nagging. 

Virgil, at last, put the last of a pancake on the top of his stack, and nodded, before turning to the table to set it down to grab the butter and syrup, and nearly dropped the newly-completed pancakes in surprise.

“What are you doing up, Princey?”

Roman was lounging on the table, not quite with his usual poise; it mostly just seemed like he’d flopped back onto the table, his legs dangling off the edge. Paired with the hoodie he was wearing, his posture more like Virgil’s own, rather than something befitting royalty.

Roman twirled his wrist half-heartedly, and let his hand drop back down onto the table with a thunk. 

Virgil paused, frowned, and lowered his shoulders.

“Princey.”

He let out a loud gust of a sigh, made a vague hand gesture, and a ukelele appearing in his hand. It wasn’t with the cool, choreographed movement he usually did, or an excited reach; just a movement for the sake of movement.

He set the ukelele against his chest in what Virgil thought was probably bad form.

“[Hey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gyi3N-y-GM4),” he sang, voice scratchy, as if he hadn’t warmed up, or drunk any water that day. “How you doing, well I’m doing just fine, I lied, I’m dying inside—”

Virgil cringed, and shifted his hold on the pancakes.

“Um,” Virgil said, highkey wishing he was like, a third as emotionally proficient as Patton was, “um—”

He hesitated, before he shuffled forwards, and set the plate of pancakes on Roman’s stomach. Roman turned his head towards him.

“Do you want, like,” Virgil said, and tried his best not to fidget. “What do you want to—? Do you want me to—?”

Roman blinked at the pancakes, and sat up a bit.

“Can we,” he began, and let out a massive sigh. “Can we do the thing we do where we just ignore our problems in favor of memes?”

“Yes,” Virgil said, relieved, because if Roman had wanted to break down and have a monologue about how his life was falling apart, Virgil would’ve had no idea how to handle it, but avoiding his problems by focusing on something funny and familiar was much more Virgil’s department. “Yeah, sure, we can do—do you want jam on your pancakes? I’m gonna make some more, I had extra batter.”

“Okay,” Roman mumbled, at last sliding off the table, keeping a two-handed grip on his plate. Virgil got the jam, and a big glass of water, and silverware, and set them all down in front of him, before turning the stove back on and getting another plate.

And—okay, sure, spoonfuls of jam straight to mouth. That was normal behavior, especially at four am after quoting that vine. Great.

“Could you at least eat the pancakes,” Virgil said. Roman stared at him, before tearing up the pancake, and effectively using the pancake bits as a spoon, staring at Virgil all the while, as if challenging him to say something.

Virgil blinked at him, and instead clicked on a meme playlist on his phone. 

_“[This is. A nice stick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-TcLxlkc2pA),”_ a modulated voice began over the speaker, and Roman smiled weakly through his mouthful of pancake and jam.

“Lemme _smash,”_ Roman and Virgil both monotoned at the same time, and by the time the video ended, Roman was smiling, but it was a weak one, teeth barely visible, and what was visible was stained [four-fruit](http://www.croftersorganic.com/Product.php?unid=5) red.

So Virgil was going to have to bust out the big guns, then.

“[You asked for it! A whole _video_ dedicated to the ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_OVxxIvqVw)_[rainbow sponge!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_OVxxIvqVw)”_ The woman declared, beaming.

“Ever thought about how this is Patton in forty years?” Virgil mused, and Roman snorted inelegantly into his pancakes. Well. Pancake as a spoon, meant to transport heaping piles of jam into Roman’s mouth.

They listened, and the woman added, “Who said you can’t go straight?”

“We’re gay, Dee,” Virgil informed the phone, flipping his pancake, and Roman snorted again.

Virgil listened as the next video started, and he tilted the phone towards Roman, “[This is the video that’s gonna end the water is wet debate, once and for all—”](http://tedisafish.tumblr.com/post/172641882854/menorahs-i-have-been-thinking-about-this-for)

Roman blinked. “I don’t think I’ve seen this one.”

“Oh, then you have to watch this one, the man zooms like he has a PhD in it,” Virgil said, shaking the phone at Roman a bit like how an exhausted mother would shake a jangly toy at a crying baby. “And don’t get jelly on my phone!”

“Fine,” Roman said, taking it, and Virgil turned his attention back to the stove as he listened to the passionate _water is not wet _debate, which had put Logan into apoplectics a month ago.

Roman, looking devious, proceeded to tap at the phone a few times, and Virgil heard the tell-tale _whoosh_ of a sent message.

“Logan?”

“He’ll be furious,” Roman said happily, handing the phone back to Virgil. The message with the video link was full of kissing emojis and smirking emojis. It was blatantly obvious that Virgil wouldn’t have been the one who sent it.

“Well—”

“He’ll be frantically trying to convince all of us, who think that water is wet, that water is wet,” Roman said, digging his pancake bits into the jam again. “He will then be frustrated that he does not have anyone to debate this with, and will probably resort to attempting to remake that video to prove his point, only for us to reap the harvest of Logan attempting to use zooms on his camera. Tell me you don’t want to see that.”

Virgil paused, and tilted his head, lips pursed in a _you right_ expression.

“Yeah, okay,” Virgil said. “Wanna watch a video Patton would scold us for?”

“Intriguing,” Roman said, cautious. “Scold us for what?”

Virgil hit play.

“_[FUCK YOU, BALTIMORE!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rsEs4HWXeY)”_ the salesman boomed, Virgil’s phone at full volume, and Roman choked cackling on his pancake. “IF YOU’RE DUMB ENOUGH TO BUY A NEW CAR THIS WEEKEND, YOU’RE A BIG ENOUGH SCHMUCK TO COME TO BIG BILL HELL’S!”

The swear-laden, r-rated car commercial continued, at full volume, Roman trying and failing not to laugh at it, and eventually had to wipe his tears away, before his gaze landed on where Virgil was standing, absentmindedly picking up a dish towel to clean up some spilled batter from the oven rack.

“I have an idea.”

* * *

This was stupid. This was so, so stupid.

And yet.

“When Logan and Patton aren’t home,” Roman snickered, before he took a breath, and Virgil squinted through his sunglasses as the [familiar notes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CgHW02YF50s) started up. Virgil didn’t even _know_ Roman could play the trombone.

Obligingly, though, Virgil began to slam the oven door in time, and the notes got shaky and wheezy because Roman would start laughing, and then Virgil would start laughing, and they’d have to start all over again, until—

“_What_ are you two doing?!” Logan demanded, sleepy eyed and scowling, rubbing his eyes, before seeing the way they were standing. Sunglasses on, Virgil in fitting pajamas, Roman about to start blasting the trombone in his face.

Logan paused, rubbed his eyes again, and said instead, “I’m going to believe that this is a lucid dream, and I am going back to bed.”

_Wah-wah-wahhhhhh,_ Roman blasted after him, and Virgil had to tighten his hold on the oven door to keep from falling over in laughter.


End file.
